Far From Home
by Ink Spotz
Summary: Bilbo Baggins finds himself, not only in a world he has never seen before, but with his ring missing. He manages to get help from the world's most famous consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, and his partner, John Watson. Will they be able to help him?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Bilbo! Stop lagging behind!"

He scowled, looking down toward his feet, his head down as he continued to walk. Thorin was very demanding as of late. It was always,"Don't do that," or "Do this now". There was no happy middle ground with Thorin. Bilbo figured that it was probably from the stress that he was facing. Each day they were getting closer to Smaug's lair, and Bilbo knew that Thorin was still trying to figure out a way to successfully take the dragon down.

Bilbo reached down and slipped his hand into his pocket. He fingered the ring there, feeling the power pulsing from it. He desperately wanted to just put the ring on, to slip away from all of this, but he knew he couldn't. At least not now. If he tried to do it now, the party he was traveling with would realize he had it. As it was, he was already paranoid that Gandalf suspected he had it. Luckily, Gandalf was not at the moment with them.

Thorin pulled up short from a break, obviously irritated with how slow they had become in their pace.

"We'll never get there at this rate," commented Thorin, scowling at the dirt.

Bilbo leaned against a tree at the back of the pack, eyes watching Thorin carefully. The ring seemed to be calling at him at this point. Maybe he'd be able to sneak away from the group, even if it was just for a moment. He just desperately wanted to satisfy this longing for power within him.

Slowly, Bilbo started to pack up toward the edge of the forest, starting to slip into the shelter of the trees. At this point, Thorin was busy yelling at the other Dwarves in the party. He wouldn't notice that Bilbo was missing for a minute or two.

Bilbo slipped a ways back into the trees, still walking backwards. Perfect. The trees were so close together at this point that they would be able to obscure him very well. Just as he was about to reach into his pocket for the ring, he backed up over a large tree root. Trying to maintain his balance, he flipped backward. He expected to land on the forest floor. Instead, he found himself falling through empty space. He reached for the edge of the dirt hole and managed to grab the edge with one hand. He held on tight, turning to look over his shoulder at the hole that was under him.

The hole was so deep, he couldn't see the end of it. He gulped, trying to steady his nerves. So this was the end. He knew that he had wandered too far away from the group too, that even if he tried to yell for help, they wouldn't hear him. If anything heard him, it would be a troll.

He could feel his grip on the edge of the hole becoming weaker. Panicking, he tried to swing his body so that his other hand could grasp the edge, but failed to. One by one, his fingers started to come free of the edge. He closed his eyes as his last finger slipped off. He didn't want to see himself fall.

Bilbo fell down the hole, his eyes squeezed shut tight. He didn't want to see himself die.

* * *

"John, any new cases?" asked Sherlock, leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed.

John clicked on the blog, scrolling through the entries that popped up.

"Well, there are quite a few here, but I don't think they are any that will peak your interest."

"You're probably right."

Sherlock took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh.

"We need a client, John. I will go crazy without one."

"Did you call the Yard? Mycroft?"

"No and no. Why call them when they'd call me if they had a case? It would just lead to disappointment."

As if on cue, the phone started to ring. John reached over and picked up the phone, placing it to his ear.

"John Watson."

He listened to the person on the other end of the line, nodding once in a while. Sherlock watched him, steepling his hands in front of his face, trying to figure out who was on the other line.

Soon John hung up and looked at Sherlock with a smile.

"Well, that was Lestrade. You have a case."

Sherlock immediately jumped up from his chair, going over to shrug into his coat.

"Great. What happened? Murder? Supposed Suicide? Robbery?"

John shook his head as he shut his laptop down, putting his own coat on.

"Well, what is it?"

"Delusional man that just appeared out of no where, spewing nonsense."

Sherlock paused, looking at John.

"And they need us?"

"Well, like I said, he appeared out of no where. Lestrade can't seem to make him speak common sense. He was hoping that you could figure something out."

"So this is what I've been reduced to. A shrink for the insane?"

John chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"You should be happy that it's at least something. You've been itching to get out."

Sherlock sighed, nodding.

"You're right. I suppose I should go see just what kind of nut we have to deal with."

Sherlock turned, walking out of the flat and outdoors to wave down a cab. John stood beside him, hands in his pocket.

"I think you might be better at dealing with this situation than me," admitted Sherlock.

John turned to look at Sherlock in shock as the cab pulled to a stop.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because you're the doctor," said Sherlock as he slipped into the cab.

John slipped in beside him and told the cabbie the address. Soon the cab was in motion.

"Well, just because I'm a doctor doesn't mean you won't be able to figure things out."

He just nodded, not saying much. He was already wandering through his mind palace, no doubt trying to get himself ready for what was awaiting them.

When they arrived, Sherlock got out. They were outside an old sewing factory. The building was sagging so much that it looked almost like the letter 'U'. On the sidewalk were a whole bunch of police detectives from the Yard, along with Lestrade. Lestrade stood with his hands behind his back, talking to a man that laid on one of the hospital stretchers, gesturing wildly.

Sherlock and John walked over to him. As they approached, the man's head turned to face the two of them. His eyes held a look of absolute fear. Sherlock smirked a bit as he looked at the man. If you didn't take into account the man's clothing, dirtiness, or his longish hair, he looked like John. He turned his head to the side to see if John was recognizing the resemblance. Apparently he did because he had his jaw open a bit. Sherlock smirked even wider.

"Have we found your twin, John?" asked Sherlock as he stopped a couple inches away from the man on the stretcher.

The man just looked at Sherlock and then at John. He focused on John, his eyes growing wider with horror.

"Who are you?" asked the man.

"My name is John and this is Sherlock," replied John. "Who are you?"

"Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins."

Lestrade huffed a sigh, turning to face Sherlock and John.

"Afraid he must have bumped his head in there," said Lestrade, jerking a thumb behind his shoulder at the sewing factory. "He thinks he's a fictional character."

Sherlock snorted, rolling his eyes. He really was about to deal with a nut.

"Did you bump your head?"

"I might have a bit when I landed, but I swear I'm not making my identity up."

Sherlock studied Bilbo closely.

"So, you're Bilbo Baggins?"

"Yes."

"Show me your mystical ring then."

Bilbo gulped in panic. How did he know about the ring?

"I want to see the mystical ring that you took from Gollum."

"You read 'The Hobbit'?" asked John, looking at Sherlock in surprise.

He shrugged.

"I watched the movies."

"W-what ring?" asked Bilbo, trying to play stupid.

"Don't give me that. If you're really who you claim to be, you'll have the ring."

Bilbo had placed his hand by the ring pocket without even realizing it. Sherlock saw him do that, and grinned.

"Is it in that pocket?"

Bilbo shook his head quickly. Too quickly for Sherlock. He knew he was right.

"Show me. If you want my help, you need to show me."

"Who said I need help?" asked Bilbo.

"You obviously need help if you're on a stretcher, clearly confused and in fear."

He sighed, slipping his hand into his pocket. He supposed that he would just have to show Sherlock or he'd never quit bugging him. However, when he slipped his hand into his pocket to feel for the ring, it wasn't there. He immediately started to panic.

"Where is it?"

He moved his fingers all about his pocket, but it wasn't there. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.

"Do you not have it?"

"I did, but it's not there anymore! You have to believe me."

"Sherlock, take it easy on the man. He's clearly in shock," spoke up John. "Can't you try taking a gentler approach?"

Lestrade nodded in agreement to what John said.

"John's right, Sherlock. You should take it easy on him."

Sherlock looked at Bilbo, who was at this point, sitting up, looking wildly around for his missing ring.

"I want his case," said Sherlock after a long while.

Lestrade looked at him in bewilderment.

"You want his case? Why?"

"Because he's the most interesting thing that has found its way on my doorstep in weeks," replied Sherlock with a smile. "I'm curious to see how this will turn out."

With that, Sherlock patted John's shoulder.

"Lets help your long lost twin figure out where his ring is."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So, you're really a hobbit?"

Sherlock puffed his cheeks and let out a long sigh. For some reason, it was taking John longer to let this all sink in. Maybe it was because Bilbo looked identical to him. Maybe he didn't believe that he could look so much like a literary character.

"Yes," replied Bilbo. "I'm a hobbit."

Sherlock allowed a small, amused grin to cross his face. Maybe he could have some fun with this.

"John, I always told you you were a dwarf. Now I have proof."

John, who sat beside Sherlock in the cafe, looked at him bewildered. He looked toward Bilbo and then back at Sherlock with a dumbfounded expression.

"Excuse me?"

"Proof," said Sherlock, pointing a slender finger at Bilbo.

"I'm a hobbit. Did you not just hear me?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"Hobbit, dwarf...same thing. You're both short."

Bilbo actually took on a slight look of offense as he looked from John to Sherlock.

"There is a distinct difference between the two!"

"Bilbo, calm down. Sherlock is just teasing..." said John, though he wore a questioning look himself.

"Of course I'm just teasing...I know the difference," said Sherlock. "Was merely trying to have some fun."

Bilbo relaxed then, releasing a soft laugh.

"Right, okay. You're a strange character, aren't you?"

Sherlock quirked a brow at what Bilbo had said.

"What do you mean by that statement?"

"I just mean, you aren't who I expect to run into."

"Were you expecting to run into a bunch of rocks?" asked Sherlock a bit sarcastically.

"Sherlock, behave yourself," chided John as he shot Sherlock an irritated look. "What if you found yourself in Middle Earth? Wouldn't you be terrified?"

"Oh, of course," said Sherlock turning to look at John. "If I was in the middle of the earth, I'd be dead."

John slapped a hand over his face, releasing a breath he didn't realize that he was holding.

"I said Middle Earth, not the middle _of_ the Earth!"

Sherlock allowed a small smirk to cross his face. He just love to tease John once in a while.

"I'm merely joking," said Sherlock. "Calm down, John."

"You seem to like to joke an awful lot today, Sherlock," said John. "I didn't realize you were such a comedian."

Sherlock merely rolled his eyes, sipping his coffee once more.

Bilbo stared at them the whole time as this transaction occurred. By the time they were done bickering, he looked up the two of them, his jaw dropped in amazement.

"Is this how you two always get along?" asked Bilbo.

John chuckled, turning his attention back to Bilbo.

"Most of the time, yes."

"You two would get along well with Thorin," commented Bilbo, frowning slightly as he thought about him. Would Thorin have even realized that he was missing from the party yet? Would they actually miss him?

John gave a small smile, placing his hand gently on Bilbo's shoulder.

"Are you alright, mate?"

Bilbo jerked himself out of his thoughts, looking at John with a small nod.

"I am. Sorry. Just home sick I suppose. I don't often leave the Shire."

Sherlock scoffed.

"'Don't often leave the Shire'," quoted Sherlock. "Isn't that what the Hobbit book is all about? You leaving the Shire to defeat Smaug and help Thorin?"

Bilbo made eye contact with Sherlock, studying him for a moment, not saying a word.

"Sherlock, lay off Bilbo," said John, rising to his feet. "He needs help."

Sherlock opened his mouth to make a comment, and John shot him a warning glare.

"Don't you even say it," warned John in a measured tone.

By this time, the three or four other people in the cafe with them had all swiveled their heads to look at the commotion.

"Lets get going. We're no help to him here," said John, still standing on his feet, looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock stood up too, not saying a word. He silently stood to his feet and walked toward the door of the cafe, and then outside.

"Is he alright?" asked Bilbo concerned as he stood up beside John.

John let out a sigh, nodding his head.

"He's fine. He just doesn't like being told what to do."

John and Bilbo walked outside the cafe together after paying the bill. Once on the sidewalk, they could see that Sherlock had walked down the street a ways and was turning to walk down an alley. John quirked a brow.

"He couldn't have possibly found a lead already..." muttered John as he followed Sherlock, Bilbo close behind.

John turned down the alley that Sherlock had just disappeared down, and was following his shadow when suddenly, Sherlock came to an abrupt halt.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

Sherlock turned his head to the side, but didn't acknowledge John's question. It seemed as if he was trying to attentively listen for something.

Bilbo cautiously stepped forward. That was when he heard what Sherlock was hearing. He could hear faint strains of his name.

"Someone's looking for me," he whispered, wondering who the whispers belonged to.

Sherlock finally turned to face them then, a look of urgency on his face.

"John, get Bilbo out of here. _Now."_

"But..."

Sherlock shot John the look this time, and John knew that Sherlock was serious. He grabbed Bilbo's hand and started to backtrack out of the alley with him.

"Come on, Bilbo. We have to get going."

Bilbo didn't move from his spot for a moment. He instead listened to the whispers, listening closely as they became a voice he recognized. He shuddered with horror. No. It couldn't be him.

But it was.

It was the...

"John, now!" yelled Sherlock, running back toward them himself.

Seeing that neither of them were moving still, he grabbed their hands and dragged them after him out of the alley. Once they were on the deserted sidewalk again, Sherlock quickly hailed a cab, making them get inside. Though Bilbo had never been in a cab, nor seen one, he was more afraid of what was behind them. He quickly got in and seated himself between Sherlock and John. As they drove off, John looked at Sherlock with a look of disbelief on his face.

"What was that about?"

"Someone was after Bilbo," said Sherlock turning to look at John. "Someone wants his ring."

"But who?" asked John, clearly exasperated about being in the dark.

Bilbo stared straight ahead, clearly lost in his thoughts. When he heard John ask who had been after him, he turned to answer him before Sherlock could.

"It was the Necromancer."


End file.
